Bright Moon (Solstice Prelude)
by cristymv
Summary: Amalia Valencia has been limited all her life due to her health, but that hasn't stopped her proving how exceptionally smart she is. The situation at home has become problematic; her health is decaying, her older sister missing, and her stepmother is rushing to wed her younger sister. How far is Amalia willing to go to save her younger sister from a disastrous marriage?
1. Chapter 1- Getting ready

**Thank you very much to The Walrus and the Carpenter for helping me Beta this document.**

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Bright Moon.**

**Chapter 1.-Getting ready.**

**POV:****Amalia Valencia**

**Location****: Mexico (previously La Nueva España)**

**Year:****1852**

**I**t has been a few months since I have been able to sleep; between being nervous for Marian's disappearance and having constant coughing attacks. Not being able to rest explains why my body hasn´t been able to heal itself.

I open my eyes and realize to my great surprise that the sun is no longer high in the sky; it is finding its way towards the west and lowering its altitude. The shadows from my window have moved as well. It seems I missed lunch; my stomach's kind enough to inform me with the noise it's making. I should go to the kitchen and steal something to keep me set until dinnertime.

I stand up and feel the latest dizzy spell; at first my world becomes all black, as if I am wearing a black cloth over my eyes, and I feel my legs faltering. I hear a rustling noise that starts to sound far away, and grab the bedpost to prevent myself from falling. It's a good thing I am near the bed; my strength is faltering. I manage to sit down on the mattress and wait until I can finally focus my sight, and for the yellow walls to stop spinning. I close my eyes and breathe slowly, trying to get air into my lungs; however, it has been a long while since I´ve felt them completely fill themselves.

My body is protesting once again; I had the false idea thinking that a couple of hours of siesta (_translation:_ nap) would compensate the lack of several months of sleep. I sigh, my stomach is going to have to wait for Jacinta to come and help me to the dining room.

I hate being so weak—one would think I'd be used to it by now. All of my life I have been the sick child of the family, the one that couldn´t go outside to play with my sisters, go to a fiesta (_translation:_ party), or even to church. Papa arranged with the priest to come and join us for dinner every Sunday, and in return he would teach me about God.

Most of my life I´ve been locked in this house. Papa's afraid the next sickness will be my last; so far I´ve proved them wrong. I´ve always manage to survive each and every one—even as a baby, being premature—but the odds are against me. Papa likes to tell me I was so little, I could fit in the palm of his hand, like a small doll, and that it was hard to believe I was a living creature.

I manage to surprise every physician when I survive; unfortunately, my birth Mother, Angela, didn´t. The cholera was what provoked her going into labor earlier than anybody expected, and it was the reason she lost her life. However, I was lucky enough that she met me.

"You are going to make it, my little Maya, you are a fighter." Jacinta likes to remind me, each time I get sick, what my Mother hopes were for me, her newborn child. I have been close to dying more than once, but it seems Death likes to check on me every now before deciding in the last minute that it isn´t my time to leave.

I start feeling better and open my eyes. The yellow walls have stopped moving, and I can see my room properly. The window in the corner, letting the sunlight come in, informs me a storm is approaching. It's probably drizzling; the smell of wet grass is becoming more powerful, meaning it's not long before it starts to rain.

I move my head around and see the piano at one corner of the room; its silence indicates that it misses my fingers running across the keys. Hanging in the wall next to it is the violin and the flute. It has been so long since the last time I played, ever since Marian disappeared six months ago.

I can feel the hole that has formed in my heart fill with pain and longing. I miss her; this is so unlike her. I know something bad happened to her; she would have made every possible attempt to contact me, to let me know that everything is fine. Unfortunately, I haven´t received one single letter from her. At first, I was hoping she had run away with the man she loved. She was head over heels for him, but after Mama´s close inspection she decided he didn´t deserve a girl like her. He didn´t have what it took to be worthy, which in _her_ terms, meant the right position and the right amount of money in the bank or land. She never cared he was good hearted, hardworking and that he like children. He would have been an excellent father to his children; it was obvious, especially the way he played with his niece and nephew in the park. I could see him from my bedroom window. Marian couldn´t have picked a better suitor; he never lied to any of us about his position, but Mama stopped her and threw him out of the house.

"Preciosa," (_translation: Beautiful_) I turn slowly and see Jacinta coming in, my Nana. (_translation:_ Babysitter); She has been with us before I was born. She was a girl back then, but took me under her wing the minute my mother died. As usual she has a smile on her lips and her cheeks are rosy. She has a few strand of hair loose and some leaves in it. It seems she's had a quick meeting with Jose, her Corazón (_translation: heart_), as she calls him, "you finally woke up from your siesta."

She looks so happy, I don´t want to ruin her beautiful smile. I won´t tell her about the latest dizzy spell

"Yes, Jacinta." I smile back at her. "How is your Corazón?" her eyes widen, informing me that I caught her; she flushes.

"Shhh, Niña (_translation: Child_)! You are going to get me in trouble" She does a quick take back at the door and closes it behind her. She looks reproachful at me. She isn´t supposed to see Jose during her working hours, but I know nobody was near my room; I didn´t hear any creaking from the wooden floor.

"Nobody is out there, Jacinta." I try to calm her nerves, and she sighs in relief. "But seriously, you should just get married. You have been dating for so long." I was ten years old when they both started seeing each other—a total of ten years. I almost feel sorry for Jose. "Besides you just can´t keep away from each other." I laugh when she flushes more.

"Niña!(_translation: Child!_)" She laughs a little bit. "Let´s get you ready, before deciding what my future is going to be. Mama is expecting a visitor."

Well that definitely killed the good mood.

"Who is it going to be this time?" My voice whinny.

I can still remember the last couple of ´suitors´ Mama brought. She's really is desperate to get Marissa married. The first candidate was closer to Papa´s age; the second one, I wouldn´t wish that man on anybody—not only he was _not_ good looking, but he had no sense of humor whatsoever, and no patience for Marissa.

"Someone new," Jacinta answers me while she opens my closet and analyses the dresses hanging in it. Her face is pensive; it seems it must be somebody important, considering how much thought she is giving to the decision. She finally pulls two dresses out, and brings them closer to the bed. As soon as I see them my hopes go down to the floor; both of them would require the oxygen deprive cage, known better as a corset.

"We could use the brown dress, that won´t need a corset," I say, but Jacinta cuts me off with her headshake. She makes her way to the side of the bed where I am sitting and takes my arm and prepares to help me get up. Where she gets her strength from is a complete mystery; we are the same height—her build is thicker than mine, but not by much.

"Slowly on the count of three," she says gently while looking at my eyes.

"Okay," I prepare myself while Jacinta counts.

She pulls me up slowly and supports my weight until she verifies that my legs are holding me up, and there is no danger of me falling down. I give her a reassuring smile, but she doesn´t believe me.

"Hold to the bedpost, Niña."

I do as I'm told; I know she's not going to let go of me until I comply with her wishes. Once I am done she moves quickly.

"Mama should let Marissa enjoy being single a little longer—she just turned fifteen last week," I continue the previous topic, trying not to think about how hard breathing is going to become. I am already having a hard time with it as we speak.

"Old enough according to her," she returns and starts to help me remove my previous dress.

"I wish Marissa would stand up to her. I would hate to see her miserable for the rest of her life, because Mama thinks happiness is measure by the quantity of money her husband has," I keep talking while helping Jacinta remove my dress the best that I can.

The coldness of my room hits my almost naked body, making me shiver. Jacinta speeds up and puts the corset on me, and with her expert hands, start lacing it.

"Let Marissa be the one to do that, Niña (translation:child). Don´t give her another reason to hate you."

I roll my eyes at Jacinta; she can´t see it; her are eyes following the lacing she is working on.

What is another item on the list going to affect? Mama has been counting on me dying for a long time—probably ever since she married Papa sixteen years ago. Every time death has decided to spare my life, it translates into her hating me more. There's nothing I can do about that.

"If you ask me, Marissa should marry for love," I say, as Jacinta pulls the laces to tighten the corset. Immediately my breathing capacity reduces significantly, "not for convenience. Don´t you think, Jacinta?"

"Niña, when they ask my opinion on the mater I´ll let them know, but right now, my position in the house is to help you and keep my opinions to myself." She continues tightening the laces "Who knows, maybe she can learn to love this new suitor."

"Jacinta, you know better than anybody that you can´t force love," I say, and she chuckles, her mind probably back with Jose. "Look at poor Anna; what a terrible end she's had."

Her hands hesitate for a moment, before continuing without any further comment.

Anna was our neighbor who was around Marian's age. Her parents found a proper suitor who had an important position in the government. She was so excited about her wedding and worked together with her mother diligently with the arrangement. According to Marissa it was the wedding of the century; nobody doubted that Anna and her husband were happy—on that particular day. At least, that is what I heard, considering I was too sick to attend. However, life is not a fairy tale. The dream faded and reality arrived taking the bliss and happiness that the bride and groom displayed. It was obvious Anna was not happy. According to the rumors, her husband had a lover and ignored Anna to the point of abandonment. Anna kept the perfect façade of a newlywed, and became a prisoner in her own home, with not a glimpse of happiness for the future. She started to fade, as a flower on autumn, losing her spark and smile, then, a couple of years into her marriage, I could see her coming and going to her parents' house, a frown on her forehead each time she had to return home.

Only once I saw that old smile of hers, when crossed paths in the street with a young man that worked for a nearby landlord, running errands in town. His position was not high, judging by his clothes; however, that didn´t matter, her expression changed completely, and her breath caught. He stopped walking, looking at her intently. The small interaction lasted a couple of seconds, ending with a shake of her head before she walked past him without a backward glance. Both of their faces had instantly fallen. She was discreet, keeping the right attitude that society expected; he turned and followed her with his eyes, until she disappeared around the corner, and continued his chores as if nothing happened.

I don´t have a doubt in my mind that in that moment they were both heartbroken.

A few months later the terrible news hit our house; Anna died. There were different rumors regarding her passing, one was that Anna was caught trying to leave her husband, and who obviously wouldn't allow it, so instead she took her own life. The second rumor was that her husband found out about Anna having a lover and took matters into his own hand, killing both of them.

Everybody believed the first rumor; it was more likely considering the change everybody observed in her. Somehow, I believed more in the second one.

"Shhh! Niña, not everybody has a tragic ending. Just look at your parents," she says, putting the final touches on the corset.

I look at her full of disbelief, which makes her bite her lower lip nervously.

The fact that they had made it work by practically ignoring each other doesn't mean they are happy. I knew Papa´s heart has and will always belong to my mother, but Papa needed a wife to help raise his daughters, and Mama wanted a husband to raise her position in her society. It seemed like the perfect arrangement.

"We should stop with the chit-chat and finish preparing you," she ends the conversation, probably afraid of being caught gossiping. She quickly pulls the dress from the hanger and helps me put it on. She closes the dress not looking too happy at it, as she pulls the laces as much as she can. "You have lost weight, Niña." She sounds worried.

I ignore her comment and walk slowly to the dresser; I feel relieved when I sit down, happy to finally rest the weight of my body in the chair.

Jacinta works swiftly on my hair. If there is one thing I know my sisters envy, it's my hair. It doesn´t have the curls of Marian, or the beautiful chestnut color of Marissa, but it is long, thick and as dark as night, with its own shine. Jacinta starts putting it up, as the misses are expected. I know Mama instructed her on how to do it, considering the hairdo doesn´t complement my features. Mama wants to make sure the attention goes to Marissa and not me.

Why does she even bother? Honestly, nobody in his right mind is going to pay any attention to the sick little one.

Jacinta helps me stand up and we both walk to where the mirror is located at one end of the room, next to the overloaded bookcase. I enjoy seeing her angry look at the books almost falling from it; she likes everything in perfect order, and the bookcase gets on her nerves. There isn´t much she can do about it; I know she has tried, but having this many is hard to store in a proper order.

I adore my books, the variety of them, from languages, science, and math; however, the ones I love the most are stories and novels. Marian and Marissa spend their time sewing, painting or doing social gossiping—something Mama considers is worth for a future Mrs. _No-man-likes-his-women-to-be-smarter-than-him_, so she discourages them from reading. When night falls they like coming to my bedroom and lay in my bed next to me while I tell them a bedtime story. This activity brought us together and made us tight. I could hardly join them outside or in dances, but at the end of the day, they will always seek me out—or at least they used to. Now it's only Marissa; the other side of the bed is cold from the lack of Marian's presence.

I divert my attention from the bookcase and see my reflection on the mirror. I like the color of the dress; it's a light pink that manages to bring some color to my pale complexion, and a perfect contrast to my black hair. I like the ruffles on the sleeves with small rose embroidery on them. At my chest there is a beautiful ribbon that criss-crosses from my chest to my stomach area. It usually fits perfectly, but Jacinta is right, I´ve lost weight, and it's no longer providing the right form to the area. Mama is not going to be happy about it.

I hear the creaking of the wood outside of my room. Somebody is coming. I turn my head to see our newcomer.

"Amalia?" Mama enters my room without bothering to knock and makes a quick inspection of my dress. One of her eyebrows goes up, joining her frown. It seems she is not happy with the result, but keeps the comment to herself.

"Yes, Mama," I answer back with some attitude.

"It's almost time." She signals to Jacinta to leave the room. She follows the order without uttering a word, closing the door behind her. "You know what you need to do?"

The only reason I am allow to attend is because she wants me to analyze this new suitor, and make sure he's not another charlatan. With all the Spanish and creole that are in town trying to rise the social ladder, it's becoming harder to tell apart the charlatans from the ones that Mama is interested in.

"Yes, Mama." I close my eyes and get a hold of the bookcase as another dizzy spell forms. I should have eaten something.

By the time I open my eyes again Mama is leaving the room, not concerned for my wellbeing. She has higher priorities; to make sure her daughter, Marissa, is ready for this stranger.


	2. Chapter 2- The Newcomer

**Thank you very much to The Walrus and the Carpenter for helping me Beta this document.**

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 2.- The newcomer**

I slowly make my way towards the leaving room, and by the time I reach it, I feel completely out of breath and drained from the small walk. I sit on the sofa catching my breath while looking at the preparations that have taken place. The warmth from the fireplace has filled the room, and close to it is Papa´s armchair with its pipe on the small table next to it. On the main sofa is Marissa´s sewing kit, with the pillow she has been working on since she was twelve. In one corner of the room, in a hidden table that is next to Marian´s portrait, a chess game waits, ready for a new challenge. At the other side of the room is the grand piano, where I used to play while my sisters danced around it. I continue analyzing the room and can´t help smiling when I see Marissa was kind enough to bring one of my favorite books and put it in the sofa where I usually sit, next to the window.

I hear the maids whispering in the dining room located next to the living room, discussing how many seats they should prepare.

"Maya," I turn around and see Marissa. She is a younger version of Mama, but the energy and spirit she has makes her beautiful. She comes and sits next to me, "you look lovely." She gives me a wide smile, making me believe that she is truthful, but who is she kidding? I am average; she on the other hand looks stunning,

Mama has made sure she looks older, with a matronly hair do; however, she is not able to hide the innocence of her eyes. "Thank you for helping us. I know you dislike this kind of activity"—I flash her a small smile—"and how wearing the corset makes your breathing harder," she says under her breath.

I giggle at the face that she makes. Surely, she hates them as much as I do.

I start coughing, and it's hard for me to stop. It seems I went over my limit with the small walk from my room to the living room. Marissa stays right by my side until the fit finally stops; her face full of concern at how long it takes me to recover. She reminds me of Marian the way she bites one corner of her lower lip trying to hide her concern.

"Is there any news from Marian?" I ask. Papa had probably asked the rest of the household to avoid telling me anything related to her, but I can always rely on Marissa to be truthful.

Her face falls and her eyes well with fresh tears that threated to fall. She shakes her head. I grab her hand trying to comfort her as best as I can, but she keeps her eyes on the floor. Unfortunately, I see Mama right in front of me, with a murdering look. I have just managed to ruin Marissa's good spirits prior to meeting her new suitor—not a smart move from my part.

"Something will come up," I say trying to cheer her up. "She probably found a handsome young gentlemen and fell in love with him and eloped." I try hard not to look at Mama, since the only reason Marian would have done that is because of her.

"Amalia, stop making up stories and filling Marissa´s head with such nonsense about love." She looks severely towards me, her eyes threatening. If she only knew how much Marissa is a fool for love stories ever since she was a little girl.

"Madame, the gentlemen has arrive," Jacinta interrupts my reply to Mama, making sure I keep my mouth shut before I get myself into more trouble.

"Well don´t keep him waiting, Jacinta,' she adds quickly, eyeing Marissa for a final checkup, "and inform Mr. Valencia our visitor has arrived."

"No need to inform me, Jacinta, I am already here," Papa says, entering the living room. He is a big, tall man, and a black beard covers the lower part of his face. He grins when he sees me, but the smile doesn´t reach his eyes. A shadow of sadness has been there since Marian disappeared, along with the shadow of concern he has when he sees me. He approaches me and tucks a strand of my hair, that has managed to come loose, behind my ear. "You look beautiful Maya, just like your mother."

I wish I could see Mama´s face right now. She is probably as red as a turnip, enraged by my father's innocent comment. It probably felt like a punch to the stomach, with her distaste towards me increasing. Nothing is worse for her than my father remembering my mother—it's another reason why she hates me. She clears her throat trying to get my father´s attention, without achieving much.

"I told you, Maya," Marissa says, stepping closer to me and grabbing my hand, giving it a small squeeze. I turn and look at her. Her big smile is contagious.

"Papa, Marissa is the one that looks ravishing tonight," I say, bringing my father's attention to his younger daughter. Maybe this will get me on Mama´s good side.

"You both look beautiful," he says, looking at the corner where Marian´s portrait is located. Among the three of us, Marian was the one who, no matter what she was wearing, always looked strikingly gorgeous.

Without another word, he walks to where his armchair is located and takes his pipe; he won´t light it while I am in the room, but I´ve notice it gives him some kind of tranquility just by holding it.

A set of footsteps approach the living room, making us all turn towards the door. A man enters, so I immediately start working on the task Mama has assigned me. The first thing I notice is that he is very handsome—far above from the usual suitors that have come to the house. He is tall as Papa is, but his body's slim. His hair is a mousy brown color that reaches his chin, but he wears it behind his ears to keep it from falling to his face. His skin is even paler than my own, making the black circles under his eyes stand out. I wonder if this man might be sick, considering how close his appearance is to my own, but the way he moves shows no kind of weakness whatsoever. If anything, he moves too fast.

I hear the gentleman saluting my Father, Mama and Marissa.

"And this is Amalia," Mama´s voice snaps me out of the trance I was in. I look at her and see her eyebrows shooting up, together with her hand. It seems my full attention was so entrapped that I forgot to stand up as the rule of propriety dictates. "Please, Mr. Alvarado, excuse my daughter for her rudeness."

I try to stand up, however, the corset and my strength makes it impossible for me to achieve it as quickly as I am hoping.

"No need to worry, Mrs. Valencia, I am sure your daughter did not mean any disrespect." He approaches me and extends his gloved hand, helping me to my feet. His touch feels cold, even with the piece of cloth between us, as if it was seeping from him.

I smile at him for his generosity, but it stays frozen in place when I look into his eyes. The coloring is not right. I am certain I wouldn´t have noticed them if it wasn´t for the proximity, but with the light from the fireplace I am certain of what I am seeing; they have a crimson coloring to them.

How can a man have red eyes? I know I have never seen one and I am quite observant. The simple thought sends a shiver down my spine.

The introductions are quickly over, and everybody takes their place. Papa starts chatting with him while Marissa quickly works on her pillow, and Mama sits next to her to instruct her. I slowly sit down and grab the book Marissa brought me, but I am not able to concentrate. I constantly glance over to where he is sitting, and study him. The first thing I notice is how his breathing is off; it seems that he skips a breath or two. I follow the rhythm of his breath with my own and I am certain that at some point he is not breathing at all.

How can a person talk without uttering a breath for that long?

I look at his clothes and the accessories he is wearing, and they are not fake items; this surely is going to please Mama. This his suitor falls right into her definition of ´love´. However, he is not right for Marissa. His body language indicates that he cares for her, he constantly glimpses towards her, while his body is directed towards where she is sitting. However, his face and eyes are telling a different story. I try to pinpoint the exact word for it, but the only thoughts that come to mind is he wishes to devour her—literally.

"Amalia," Papa´s voice interrupts me. He usually never calls me by my actual name, he prefers my nickname, but in front of strangers he likes to keep it formal, "are you feeling all right, my dear?"

Now that he mentions it, I am feeling rather weak and hungry, but I want that wary look in his eyes to disappear, so instead, I nod and give him a big wide smile.

"Could you be kind enough to play something for our guest?"

I look at Mr. Alvarado; his gaze makes me feel uncomfortable. "Do you have a specific preference?" I push my feelings aside and keep my smile plastered on my face, trying to appear as gracious as I can.

"I am sorry, I don´t understand the question." He chuckles, looking from me to my father.

"What my daughter is referring to, Mr. Alvarado is, if you have a specific instrument or piece of music in mind. She knows how to play at least five different instruments." I notice how my father's back straightens, and the smile on his lips becomes wider. Daddy always enjoys bragging about his middle daughter.

He has always been proud of how fast I am able to learn, no matter the subject; languages, math … you name it I learn it. I might be a prisoner of my own body and be limited in many aspects, but my mind is something gentleman should be afraid of—his words not mine.

Mr. Alvarado gives me a quick look up and down, assessing me, then turns his head and eyes the table in the corner.

"How about a game of chess?" he smiles at me. "I believe it is less exhausting."

I get the feeling he knows that I am not feeling well, but he has hardly glimpsed my way. I know I am not a very good actress, but I am putting forth my best act and he is seeing right through it.

"Good luck with that, Mr. Alvarado." Papa smiles widely. "She is our best player."

"An interesting challenge then." He stands up, approaches me and offers me his hand to again help me up.

We walk to the table where the chess game is set and take our place, his back towards the portrait of Marian and mine towards the window.

"Ladies first." He points towards the chess game.

I take a quick look at the board and make the first move; I move a pawn deciding to see if he will play more offense or defense.

"Mr. Alvarado, I wasn´t paying a lot of attention to your conversation with Papa," I say while he makes his move. I immediately move the same piece forward, pretending I am not putting a lot of attention to the game. "Which part of Spain are you from?" It is obvious by his accent he is not originally from the new continent.

"Barcelona, doll," he says smiling at me and making his next move.

I assume by the way he plays he is more offense than defense; he is going after my pawn. I will have to entice him with a more interesting piece to go after while I work my way towards his king.

"I´ve heard it's a beautiful city; although, I´ve never been there myself." He nods, his attention on the chessboard. He immediately smiles and takes my pawn. I continue, not giving much thought at my fallen piece; I was expecting it. "My older sister, Marian, was there some years ago visiting an aunt." I notice his eyes widen when he hears her name. I pause trying to make sense of what it means and make my next move, deciding that my bishop might be a good piece to distract him.

We continue moving pieces around the board; I manage to bring down some of his while leaving my bishop out in the open.

"And what did your sister think of the city?" he asks not looking at me; his eyes set on the board.

"I could tell she liked it; although, she didn´t talk much about it. She discussed more about her suitors." I notice his eyes light up when he becomes aware of how vulnerable my bishop is, and without further due, he attacks it with a tower—not realizing how vulnerable his queen has become.

"She was a beautiful girl," he says, taking down my fallen piece from the board.

His comment brings my concentration on the game to a deathly stop. I look up straight into his eyes, ignoring the strange feeling I get, and try to see beyond them. I notice a change in them, and I don´t like it. "Have you met her?" I ask calmly, ignoring the past tense he used in his previous phrase. I see him hesitate, his eyes widening as he makes quick nervous shuffle in his chair.

"I didn´t have the pleasure of making her acquaintance, but she looks like a lovely girl" He points to the portrait hanging at the wall behind his back. I´ve spend countless days and hours in this room either reading or playing an instrument I know the room by heart, and I am certain he never had a good glimpse of it, plus, no one had mentioned the portrait was of her.

I look at the rest of the family hoping somebody else has noticed the same thing, but no such luck.

I sigh pushing my feelings aside, there isn´t much I can do, and nobody will believe in my gut feeling until I have some proof. I look down at the board and realize his queen is no longer in the same position where I just saw her. The game is now in his favor, and some key pieces are either at a different place or no longer in the board.

I am distrustful of him, my suspicious are higher, and alarms are going off in my head. I continue without uttering a word at the new re arrangement, taking my time to form a new strategy. It will take him four moves to get my king if I don´t do anything to protect him, but if I play it smart, I can save it and corner his instead.

"I haven´t lost hope yet on Marian," I say, making my first move. "However, it's still a soft subject to discuss, for all of us."

"I understand," he says seriously while looking down at the chess game and making his next move.

"I´ve heard from Mama that you are interested in Marissa," I say, lower this time, so the conversation doesn´t reach the rest of our gathering. Mama would probably send me straight to my room if she heard me. I make my move while waiting for his answer.

"Are you always this straightforward?" I can judge by his tone that he is not happy to be asked so directly. He asses the game and makes his move.

"Usually no, but when it comes to my family and the people I love, I become overly protective. I'd rather cut to the chase and avoid the pleasantries." I make my move, without taking my eyes from the board, afraid that he might take this small distraction and cheat once again.

He stays quiet, and after a small while, he continues with the game.

"Plus, she is very young. Just turned fifteen last week," I add, as I make sure to trap his king. My next move is designed to save my own one, and afterwards check mate.

"It seems your mother considers her old enough to have suitors, since she was the one that invited me tonight." He moves a piece and takes my horse, but hasn´t noticed the current situation of his king.

I can almost taste victory, and without a word, I move my king out from his reach.

"She is looking for a way to distract Marissa and my father from Marian´s disappearance with this kind of nonsense." I dare a glimpse at him and give him a threatening look; he just gives me a cocky smile.

I look down at the board game and his king is no longer cornered. _Cheater!_

"I love playing chess," he says calmly, engaging once again towards my king, "never lost a game in my life."

"Nice to hear that," I analyze this new game; not everything is lost. I don´t know how he's doing it quite so fast; I only took my eyes from the board for a second, but he is not giving much thought to the pieces he is moving. The moron made sure his king was out of grasp from my two previous pieces, but he did not consider the other ones. Actually, he left it more vulnerable than before. Again, I defend my king from the position, making sure it takes him more than one move to get him.

He is about to engage again towards my king, but I see his hand stopping before the move, realizing he is as good as dead. He can try to escape but I have him in a very tight position, beating me, although not improbable, has become almost impossible—without cheating. I make sure not to move my eyes from the board; I´ve learned from my mistakes.

"Oh my! I should apologize to you, Marissa," he says to the rest of the room, and raises from the chair. I follow him with my eyes. "I´ve been so distracted playing chess with our dear little Amalia, I´ve been neglecting you."

_Little? Who does he think he is?_

He walks towards Marissa, her face lighting up with the attention from Mr. Alvarado.

_Is he quitting? Just when I'm about to win! Coward!_

I look down at the board, and my eyes can´t believe what I am seeing; his king is no longer cornered, and he is in a safe position. However, my king is now fallen and a tower is in its place.

"Was Amalia polite enough to give you an advantage at some point?" Papa asks with a wide smile on his face.

"No need, Sir. She is a good player; however, I beat her," he answers with a smug tone.

Papa´s jaw drops.

I feel as if my insides are boiling.

Many people constantly lie to spare me from getting overexcited, fearing I won´t be able to handle the news due to my poor health. I hate being lied to, but at least they think they are doing it for my own good. Being tricked or cheated falls under a completely new category—one I am not willing to overlook.

"That is a first, right, Amalia?" Mama adds. I look at her and despise the grin she has on her lips. She is gloating and enjoying the result.

"Right Mama." I smile a little and look at Mr. Alvarado. He returns the smile but there is a warning behind his eyes.

He should be the one afraid of me!

He returns, and puts his full attention on Marissa and Mama.

"So, Mr. Alvarado, how long have you been in this savage country?" Mama inquires.

"Call me Carlos, Mrs. Valencia," he happily says, smiling at both of them.

A red shade takes over Mama´s and Marissa´s face.

_Honestly?_ _Can´t anyone see how strange this man is—the way he is manipulating everybody?_

I decide to keep a close eye on him, finding faults and reasons why Papa will object to him. I decide to keep my distance and comments until the proper time to bring all of my finding to Papa´s attention.


	3. Chapter 3- The perfect, the naïve and s

**Thank you very much to The Walrus and the Carpenter for helping me Beta this document.**

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 3.-The perfect, the naïve and the stubborn.**

I return to my room after dinner, still processing what I'd observed, and not feeling at all comfortable with Carlos—as he requested to be called. I am certain that no food or wine touched his lips, and yet his plate was suddenly empty. Where did the food and wine go? I have no idea.

Jacinta comes into my room and helps me out of the dress and the corset without uttering a single word. I take a deep breath as soon as it is off, but the air still doesn´t fill my lungs. She then helps me with my nightgown and hastily removes the pins from my hair, letting it flow freely down to my back.

The sun has already left and the moon is already high into the sky; the meeting took longer than I expected. It's not a good omen; it means Mama liked Carlos.

"You did well, Child," Jacinta gives me a brief smile and squeezes my hand.

"I didn´t like him, Jacinta," I answer her, earning an exasperated look from her. "He was too perfect," I say, measuring my words, and taking in her reaction, seeing what I should expect from Papa once I tell him.

"Child, tell the Mrs. what she wants to hear." Her voice is almost begging. "Don´t get into more trouble with her."

"That would be giving up, Jacinta. We are talking about Marissa´s future. I would never forgive myself if she was miserable, knowing what I saw and will see of her suffering once I am in heaven—if I manage to get there once I die." I make my way towards the bed and sit on top of it. I look at Jacinta; she is pondering my words, her face sad. I sigh and realize I may have been too harsh with her; after all, she is only looking after me.

"Do whatever you consider is right in your heart then, child, but promise me never to underestimate your strength. You are stronger than any of us in many ways." She gives me a smile. "For all I know you are going to outlive us all."

I chuckle at Jacinta´s unconceivable idea.

She becomes quiet the moment we hear the board of the floor creaking outside my room. Afterwards, Marissa enters my room; she is already wearing her nightgown.

"He is perfect!" she exclaims excited, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

Jacinta rolls her eyes; she doesn´t need to say the words aloud for me to know what she is thinking. _Too naïve._

"Did you like Carlos?" She sits right next to me.

I ponder my options; I can bring her spirits down gently, trying to minimize the pain, or just tell her my blunt opinion without sugar coating it.

"I didn´t like him very much, Marissa, sorry." As soon as I say it, her face falls.

She stays quiet for a short time, processing the information.

"But he is polite, attentive and quite handsome. What isn´t there to like? He is a complete gentleman." Her eyes begin to fill with tears.

"He is strange Marissa, and I get the feeling he is not polite and attentive the whole time." I put forward a gentle tone, but she gets mad.

"You are saying this because he beat you at chess?" She stands from the bed glaring at me.

"No, Marissa. Why would you even think that?" I shake my head, but she ignores me.

"It was just a game, Maya. Don´t blame him for wanting to win, and not being gentlemen enough to let you win," she continues rambling.

I know where she got the idea—Mama.

"Marissa, that is not it!" I would have a lot more respect for him if he actually beat me fair and square, which he didn´t.

I need to change my approach, and not let my opinion of him be the guide; it has been compromised.

"Look straight into my eyes and tell me if you felt a romantic connection with him. If that is the case I will keep out of your way." She is a romantic fool after all; it might take her a little longer to realize that he might admire the man, but doesn´t loves him.

Her face becomes hesitant and she starts biting her lower lip.

_I knew it; she doesn't._

"Remember, Marissa, he won´t be forever handsome. No one can prevent the decadence that time brings, and he might be polite and attentive now, but it can also fade away. Circumstances in life change. If you truly love him and he loves you back, you will be able to overcome whatever obstacle life brings you," I say, not knowing exactly how much attention she is paying, or if my words are heard; she is staring into oblivion.

A new set of steps are heard approaching my room, and I immediately see Mama entering. Marissa looks at her and immediately leaves without answering me back. She will have time to think this new reasoning and analyze her feelings; let us hope she makes the right decision.

Jacinta follows her out the door without saying goodbye.

"Report." Mama looks sternly at me. Obviously, she didn´t come to say goodnight.

"He is different." I hesitate with my answer but continue, "He is not right for Marissa"

"I don´t want your opinion." Her face is as stern as her voice. "Does he have what he says he has?"

I know exactly what she talking about—money.

I nod. At least, that part seems true enough.

"But there are so many things strange about him—didn´t you notice…?" I put in quickly before she cuts me off.

"Enough, Amalia. I can´t rely on your opinion considering you are biased" she gives me a wicked smile, enjoying the affect her words have on me.

Yep, my suspicions have been confirmed; she did put that thought in Marissa´s head.

"I wouldn´t let a small matter like him beating me at a chess game bias my opinion. If he was right for her I wouldn´t let that simple thing get on in way. If I was her mother…"

"Then it's a good thing you aren´t." Her voice cuts me off. "I want the best for her, and Carlos is something way above what I was expecting for her."

"Didn´t you notice the way…" I start once again, my voice raising trying to get her attention.

"I am getting the feeling that you might be jealous, Amalia, now that Marissa is getting the attention." That certainly shuts me up. Why would she even conceive such a terrible idea? I feel disgusted at the thought. She is pleased with herself for making me quiet, a smug smile in her lips. "You will die an old maid."

Marrying has never been on my priority list. Being alive and taking care of my loved ones pretty much makes the list. Still, just answering her back with the hopes of making her mad is an opportunity I can´t back away from.

"I am only twenty. I wouldn´t consider myself an old maid, plus I still have time." I look at her rhetorically.

"Who would want a sick little thing like you?" she approaches me, whispering the spiteful words, making sure nobody outside the room hears her. "It's better if you never marry any potential husband. How about you make us all a favor and die?"

And Carlos thinks I am straightforward? Mama has just pushed me aside and claimed the title for herself.

She enjoys seeing when I do not retaliate. There isn´t anything in her words that isn´t truth, even if it is out of spite. However, it doesn´t mean that I like to be asked to die.

"He asked for her hand in marriage."

My heads snaps up when I realize what she just said. How can it be possible that he already asked for her hand? It is all happening too fast! I look straight into her eyes, hoping she is lying. Unfortunately, it seems to be the truth; her victorious look confirming my fears. "She is only fifteen! Why are you set up on getting her married so young? Give her more time to mature and enjoy life before she has the stress of playing the perfect wife."

"If she marries young she gets the best suitors—like Carlos." She walks towards the door, indicating that the conversation is over. "Plus he plans to return to Barcelona after the wedding."

My heart drops the moment the words leave her mouth.

I won´t be able to visit her, not with my health, and what will happen to Papa afterwards, when I die? He will be left alone and heartbroken, with none of his daughters with him anymore. I suspect Marian might be dead, and Mama will most likely go with Marissa. She has never been shy about her aspirations to go to Europe and leave this hellhole behind.

"Please, Mama, don´t." I stand up, tears in my eyes falling from my eyes.

"It is already settled. I will get your father's blessing before he goes to bed tonight, so don´t you intervene with all your nonsense." Papa knows I am observant; he trusts my judgment far more than Mama´s. I accelerate my steps trying to reach her, but I'm not fast enough, she grabs the handle of the door and closes it right before my eyes. I hear the key turning from the other side, locking me in. "She is to be married in a week," I hear her happily from the other side of the door.

I know Papa, he likes to keep his promises, like me, and if he promises Marissa´s hand there is no power in this earth that will make him change his mind afterwards. A great flaw in the Valencia family.

I drop to the floor; between the tears, my weakness, the dizziness and the pain I find it hard to breathe. I should have lied and told her that he was a charlatan, that would have saved me all this trouble, but since I don´t like to be lied to, I hate to lie as well. My only hope now is for Marissa to stand up for herself and tell Papa that she doesn´t want to get married. Or for a miracle.

I return to my bed exhausted and lie there crying my heart out for Marian, and wishing she was next to me. Also for Marissa, and the way Mama is taking advantage of her innocence. And for Papa, knowing he is going to end up completely alone with no daughter or a wife with him.

I don´t know at what point I fall asleep, but when I open my eyes once again I realize it's around midnight. The house has become completely quiet and I am not able to hear any rustle coming from the street outside my room.

I walk to the window letting the moonlight guide me. I look outside; the street's illuminated with the light from one of the brightest moons. Right in front of my room is the main Plaza from the city, decorated with beautiful gardens and paths that lead to benches that are spread all around, and right in the middle of the Plaza is a beautiful kiosk.

During the day the Plaza is full of people, women pushing baby carts gossiping; kids playing around it, climbing the kiosk stairs; or groups of young maiden flirting with a group of young man each group walking in opposite directions from each other, looking forward to when they will face and flirt, with eye contact or small phrases.

At nighttime it's usually empty, except for young maids meeting with their boyfriends—such as Jacinta and Jose, who are currently siting in a bench, the plaza all for themselves.

Jacinta looks at Jose, while he is holding her hand, but I am not here to peep on Jacinta and Jose in their intimate moment; instead, I look up to the sky and see my friends the stars, welcoming me with their shine. So many times they have been my companions during my many sleepless nights, as I tried to find the constellations that I read from an astrology book. However, I am not here to do that either. I start praying to God, not for myself—I´ve given up on praying for my health to improve—but for my family.

"Please, God, protect Marissa. She is still too young to get married. I would love for her to experience more time being single and enjoy life, and then, when she is old enough, find somebody that loves her and who she loves back. Right now her future is not looking very promising, especially with this stranger that plans on marrying her, and taking her away from us. I know deep within my heart he had something to do with Marian's disappearance."

My prayers are interrupt by a laughter, and a shushing noise coming from the plaza. I look down and see Jacinta and Jose saying goodbye. They are still holding hands, and Jose takes advantage of Jacinta being distracted and pulls her towards him stealing another kiss from her, and earning him a small slap on the shoulder afterwards.

"This is the kind of love she should have, someone that knows how to make her happy and completes her; somebody with whom she can forward to the day to ending so she can share a special moment with. Not someone that can give her a position in society, or buy her every whim she or Mama have. Marissa will be unhappy in the end, and it will kill her. She has so many plans in her mind; did you know she has already picked the names of her unborn babies, and has a clear picture of each one of them?" I can´t help at chuckling, remembering her telling me how she wants at least eight kids, four boys and four girls. "So how about we make a deal, you and I? My life has no meaning; I am just a sick, useless girl with nothing to look forward to. I´ve pretty much given up fighting, expecting death to finally to take me. Therefore, make this stranger choose me instead of her. I will take her place no matter the cost that comes with it. Let my life have new meaning and a reason to keep on fighting, and when you consider it right, bless me with the opportunity to be in your presence. In return, keep Marissa and Papa safe. That is all I ask. Amen." I dry my eyes from the couple of tears I shed.

I look down and see Jacinta hugging Jose, smiling at each other. I feel a pang of envy; I would love to experience that kind of happiness, but it has never been on my cards. I turn around and head back to bed.

"Good Night, Sir," I hear Jacinta´s voice.  
With curiosity winning over, I turn around and look outside again, wondering who could be wandering the street at this time of night. I recognize the figure and his elegant stride—even if I did just met him today. My anger rises.

Jacinta and Jose look at him as he approaches them and then stops. My eyes might be too tired, because I don´t realize when Carlos pulls Jacinta from Jose´s hold and embraces her, kissing her in the neck. Jose immediately raises his arm and is ready to punch him, but Carlos lifts his arm and throws Jose to the kiosk where he hits his head hard on the metal rail.

_How can he even do that?_ Jose is taller and heavier than Carlos is, and yet, he threw him as if he was a mere pebble on the path.

Before Jose hits the floor, Carlos is standing next to him, grabbing him from the neck and pulling him closer to him, as if kissing him on the neck as well. I can´t stop looking at the scene; it's all happening so fast, and is completely unbelievable.

Carlos then drops Jose, his body falling hard to the floor, his chest not rising. I know that Jose is dead. I quickly glimpse to where Jacinta is and see the same outcome; her body lying on the ground, her eyes open with no life inside them.

"NO!" I whisper, and back up, taking a couple of steps from the window, still looking at Jacinta´s body. My mind processes the sight of my Nana's dead body on the Plaza floor, hoping with each moment that passes to see her raise, when a figure blocks my view of her. Carlos is suddenly standing in front of her, looking directly at me, as if he heard me.

I back away quickly and head to door as fast as I can, my strength faltering once again. I hold the dresser to stabilize me, when a cold wind hits my back. I turn and see the window of my room open.

_That can´t be possible, it has been locked since last winter. In addition, it's on the second floor—too high to climb in such a short time._

I grab the first thing my hands get a hold of from the dresser—the container of powder that Jacinta puts on my cheek to add some color to them. I remember once it accidentally got into my eyes, and it hurt, stinging my eyes and momentarily blinding. I make my way towards the door and jiggle the knob hoping it opens, but it's locked.

"Hello, Amalia."

My blood rushes to my feet, my breath catching, the moment I hear Carlo's voice on my back. I turn, hoping it's just a figment of my imagination, but he is standing just a few steps from me. I immediately react and throw the container of powder at him, hitting him straight in the face. The container shatters and the powder covers him.

This should buy me some time.

I start kicking and banging the door as hard as I can, hoping to wake up somebody to come and help me. After a couple of hits, I feel a hand grabbing my arm, pulling me away from the door, making me turn around to face him. I try to pass him but he has me trapped.

"I had so many plans for Marissa, now that Marian is gone," he says seriously, his crimson eyes looking straight to mine. He lifts his hand and grabs my chin—no more gloves to hide the coldness of his skin; it makes me shiver from his touch. "You were right, Marian was a beautiful girl. Too bad Jacqueline grew tired and jealous of her."

I feel my heart falling into pieces. I suspected Marian might be dead, but always had a small shred of hope that I might be wrong. Now the confirmation is clear; I don´t know if Carlos, or this so called Jacqueline, are responsible, but either one should pay for it.

"Marissa is a nice replacement—innocent as Jacqueline but not as beautiful as Marian." He chuckles at this last part.

"Stay away from my sister," I manage to say bravely.

"Why should I? She will be a wonderful pet for Jacqueline, and keep her entertained while I am out," he says, letting go of my chin.

_Maya, think! Say something smart—something that will entice him to take you instead of her. _My mind starts to think quickly; he has said 'just said as innocent as Jacqueline'.

"Marissa entertain Jacqueline?" I give a small fake laugh that I don´t even believe myself with my poor acting skills. "Usually Marissa is the one that needs to be entertained—unless you plan on both of them sewing a cushion for years," I say nervously, but manage to see doubt in his eyes. "Good luck with that," I add for good measure.

He stays quiet, pondering my words.

"Marian once told me about you." He steps backwards and crosses his arms. "She said you were the brains of the family. I can see you are not dumb; you were, after all, close to beating me at chess,"

"I was not close—you cheated!" Anger takes precedent over my fear, which honestly is dumb considering my situation.

Damn pride!

"Observant and stubborn as well, I see," he says, raising his eyebrows, and pissing me off more. He stays quiet deciding, "You could be Jacqueline´s pet; you're no doubt creative enough to keep her entertained."

I stay quiet letting him think aloud.

"I am intrigued now. You might be an interesting little addition to my coven, Amalia." He smiles and approaches me, trapping me once again against the door.

"Coven?" I don´t know what the word means, but just saying it makes me tremble. It seems my plan might have worked, but honestly, I don´t see how it will have a good outcome for me.

"You are in luck that I just fed. I might be able to control myself." He sniffs me, and I don´t understand a single word of what he is saying.

_Fed? Control himself? _ _What in heavens name is he talking about? _

"Welcome to the family, Amalia," he whispers, his cold breath hitting my ear, making me shiver.

Before I can even react, he bends down, his cold lips reaching my neck. I gasp from the touch and wimper when his teeth pierce my skin. I am literally paralyzed; I try to scream but I can´t.

He retracts his head and smiles. I lose focus; my hate and fear forgotten thanks to the worse pain I´ve ever felt in my life. It spreads like a fire from my neck to rest of my body. The beating of my heart accelerates at an impressive rate, spreading the pain in waves through my body with every beating of it.

After a while, I am able to scream and beg somebody to take pity and kill me. Nobody answers my screams or comes to my aid. I lose track of everything; the only thing that matters is the searing pain and the beating of my heart.

I never thought that death would be this painful or long. Then again, am I really dying?

**Authors Note:**

**This story is a prelude of one of the main characters from my story Solstice. I hope that it will help you understand a little bit more about her character and her abilities.**

**If you will like to continue reading more about Maya, you can find it in the following link:**

s/9490419/1/Solstice

**In addition, you can read the prelude for William, the other main character of Solstice at:**

s/9982607/1/Red-Moon

**Thank you very much to The Walrus and the Carpenter for working her magical wand and helping me Beta this document, not everybody is as brave to beta for someone that English is not their native language. Thanks to Mina Rivera for working in such a wonderful banner for Bright Moon.**

**Above all a special thank for all of you that donated to this wonderful fundraiser and to the people that work to make this fundraiser possible.**


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